“So how did you find out about her?”
“His brother told me. The other day. And I know I have nothing to base it on except gut instinct, but I can’t help wondering…What if…What if the reason James didn’t immediately leave me when he found my letters to my exes is because he related to them? What if…What if he hurt these women?”
Dimple’s jaw jostles a little as she studies me, as if she’s weighing up the next words on her tongue.
“You think I’m delusional,” I say. She says nothing. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only person in this room who thinks I might be.”
“I’m not calling you delusional.” A relief. “But I do have to wonder if you’re being dishonest.”
This stings. “Right.”
“Well, given your sometimes long-distance relationship with the truth, you can see why there’s room for doubt.”
Fucking ouch. “Well, what do you think I’ve been lying about?”
“Among many things—”
“Many things?”
“—your sister. I feel like there’s something vital you’re not telling me.”
Of course. There’s a lot I’m not telling her. But the thing that’s burning a hole in the fabric of my mind where it sits tucked away does not bear bringing to light.
She takes a moment, pursing her lips. “I’d like to revisit what happened in the aftermath of George’s death. ‘The Big Fallout,’ as you call it. In the session before the last, you said you might be willing to explore this with me a little more.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
She offers me a small smile as consolation for giving up the big, secret prize. “Well, why don’t you try telling me about it again?”
Throat clears. Mind reaches for words I’ve repeated countless times.
“Would it…” She takes a deep breath, starts picking at a loose bit of skin on her thumb. Why so nervous? “Would it help you to know that your mother has been in touch?”
Fear climbs up my neck and traps my words in my mouth. Dimple’seyes almost disappear behind her lenses as she squints to take me in. The anxiety is so loud on her face, I can almost hear her wondering if she’s made a massive mistake.
“You’ve spoken to my mother?”
“Yes. I’m not at liberty to share with her anything you’ve discussed with me, nor even confirm you as my patient. But she had plenty to say to me, nonetheless.”
“About the Big Fallout? About Claire?”
“Yes.”
“So you know what happened.”
“I know your mother’s version of events. And now I’d like to know yours.”
47
Ex Number Three
George
The skirmish with George is messy, animal. Care and I both seem intent on throwing our bodies as shields into the other’s path. But we don’t know what we’re doing, and George is winning.
Until he isn’t.
The punch he landed is still hot and angry on the side of my face, the other cheek cold against the tiles. When I peel my torso off the floor, sit up, glance around, I’m almost shocked to see George’s still figure slumped across from me. I remember the feeling of the knife handle in my hands. A few feet over, Claire sits propped up against some cabinets, glaring at his corpse.
